Page 39 of Bad Enough

Sylvan’s eyes skittered to a blond man with a worried stare standing in the background, then to the dark-haired man still on one knee in front of her. She looked at her friend and whispered, “Who are these people, Kai?”

“I’m sorry, Syl. I know how you feel about strangers in your home, but I didn’t know what else to do. I was having breakfast with—” Kai looked over at the blond—“with him when you called. When we got here, you needed medical attention, and I knew you wouldn’t want me to call an ambulance, so he called his friend over, who has some medical training.”

“Thank you,” she whispered, dropping her gaze. “I’m sorry she had to bother you both.”

The dark-haired surfer shrugged. “I was close by.”

“Going into shock is concerning. What happened?” the blond asked.

“Just something stupid. I must have had a panic attack.”

“Syl,” Kai admonished, “this was more than a panic attack. You went into shock, and we couldn’t wake you. Now what the fuck happened?”

“I don’t want to be a burden, Kai.”

“Oh, sweetheart.” Kai’s tone instantly became softer and more big sister-like as she framed Sylvan’s face in her palms. “You are never a burden. You’re my friend. Does this have to do with that bastard that’s been bothering you on your author page?”

Sylvan’s eyes filled with tears, and she nodded before dropping her eyes to her clasped fingers in her lap. “He started messaging and emailing while you were filming. I’ve been ignoring him. Deleting his letters and messages. Today, I went to get the mail. There was an envelope in the mailbox with no address or stamp. Just my name. I didn’t think fast enough, and I opened it.”

“Where is the envelope?” the blond man asked.

“I don’t know. Last I knew, I was still holding onto it.”

He reached into his pockets and pulled out a pair of latex gloves. He stepped out into the foyer and returned, holding up the purple padded envelope and matching piece of paper, along with the rest of her regular mail. “Is this it?”

She nodded.

Who in this world carries latex gloves in their pockets like it’s an everyday need?

When the blond man came back into the room, he had a frown on his face as he looked at the envelope in his hands. The frown then transferred in his gaze to her. He scrutinized the two women, then turned his attention to the bookshelves along the wall. He had an odd look on his face as if he were solving complex math equations in his head. “Your name is Sylvan Jones. The romance novelist.”

“How do you know that?” Kai asked.

He waved the envelope at her. “I’m not just another pretty face. I can read.”

“I meant, how do you know she’s a romance novelist, Kraken-boy?”

“Babe. One of her books is on your nightstand, and there’s like eighty gagillion more of them on your bookshelf.”

Sylvan leaned over to her friend and whispered, “How does he know what’s on your nightstand?”

Kai grimaced.

He set down the mail on the sofa table behind the couch and went through it, piece by piece. He then sized it into piles of the same types of envelopes and stacked them neatly off to the side.

“Jesus, Waters, you have issues,” Kai grumbled.

He grunted. “Says the woman who couldn’t find her favorite bra this morning because she doesn’t put laundry away, let alone color-code it.”

Interesting. He knows what’s on her nightstand, she was having breakfast with him, and she couldn’t find her bra? We definitely need to talk.

Waters glanced at Kai, muttering, “Why am I just hearing about this now?” He gestured at the envelope.

Kai gave Sylvan’s arm a squeeze, then gave a slightly exasperated glare at the blond man. “Why would I have told you? She’s not exactly in the market for a…” She gestured at the two men. Lost as to how to finish the sentence, she continued, “For you and your co-workers. Annoying direct messages and emails are a police issue. Besides, if somebody would let me up for air once in a while, I could share personal details in my life that aren’t in the huge file you compiled on me.”

His glare became a little less irritated and a lot more wicked. “I haven’t exactly heard you complaining.”

Whoa. I’m not sure if that’s hot or scary.

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